


a lightning in your eyes i can't deny

by vanillabeanniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Asexuality, Confessing Feelings, Disney Princesses - Freeform, First Meetings, M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, ace fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillabeanniall/pseuds/vanillabeanniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry first met Louis in a toy store when he was six.</p><p>He fell in love with him over the course of a few years.</p><p> </p><p>The dramatic story of the ace fic you never knew you wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a lightning in your eyes i can't deny

**Author's Note:**

> this fandom has a deplorable lack of ace fics so i figured i'd help fix that.
> 
> i didn't have any betas, so any and all mistakes are mine.
> 
> disclaimer: i don't own one direction or anything in relation to them (which is too bad bc anything would be better than syco)

Harry first met Louis in a toy store when he was six.

It was near Christmas time, and his primary school had only been out of session for two days. His mum had taken him to the toy store, and he was looking for a present for Gemma, whom he recalled had said she liked Snow White. So Harry had wandered around the store trailed by his mum, determinedly searching for a Snow White doll.

Gemma said she liked Snow White because she was pretty and had lots of friends. Harry thought those were nice qualities, but he preferred Belle. Belle liked books and she was adventurous and she had curly hair like Harry.

Harry was walking the shelves, carefully looking for a Snow White doll to buy for Gemma, but the shelves were fairly desolate, it being this close to Christmas and all. Harry was meticulously looking down every shelf in the princess doll aisle when he saw a Belle doll, all pretty and nice in her sparkly yellow dress. Harry liked the color yellow. It was a happy color, all sunshine and flowers.

He grabbed the Belle doll, smiling, and turned around to show his mum and beg her to buy it.

But his mum wasn’t there.

Being five years old, Harry was suddenly very afraid and started to cry. He’d been standing there, clutching the beautiful Belle doll in her box like a lifeline and crying, for almost a full minute, when a voice came out from behind him.

“Why are you crying?”

Harry turned around to see a boy not much older than him, if looks were anything to go by. But this wasn’t just any boy. This was the most beautiful boy Harry had ever seen, and he was looking right at Harry with a tilted head and rocking back and forth on his toes. The boy shook his caramel hair and leaned in, looking right into Harry’s eyes with his own blue ones. Harry liked the color blue. It was a nice color, the color of the sky when Harry swings, and the color of his favorite, softest pair of pajama pants.

Harry remembered that the boy had asked him a question and wiped his nose, shaking his head. “‘m not crying. I’m six and six year olds are too big to cry.”

The boy shook his head. “That’s not true, I’m eight and I still cry, sometimes.”

Harry shook his head again, but stayed quiet. He looked at his feet, at his new black sneakers that were still a little too big.

The boy spoke up again. “I’m Louis.”  
  


Harry liked that name. It fit the boy, with a tinkly sort of sound to it. “My name’s Harry.”

Louis smiled. “That’s a very nice name. Do you like Belle?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. She’s smart and she likes books and I like books, and I’m learning how to read. And she saved her dad and she has curly hair like mine.”

Harry looked up earnestly and saw the pretty boy nodding. “But her hair isn’t as curly as yours,” he said.

Harry pouted. “Yes it is,” he said, nodding furiously. “Belle has curly brown hair like mine.”

The boy hmmed and shook his head. “No,” he said, “but I like your hair better.” He pulled on one of Harry’s curls, and watched as it sprung back into place. Harry giggled.

“Who do you like?” he asked.

“I like Peter Pan,” the other boy said, standing up tall and putting his hands on his hips. “Because he’s brave and he’s silly and he goes on adventures. I want to go on adventures like him.”

Harry found himself nodding along. It fit the boy, somehow. “Are you Peter Pan?” he asked.

Louis laughed. “I hope, one day, that I can be. Peter Pan never grows up, so I’d like to do that, too, I think.”

Harry nodded. “Can I stay a kid with you, too?”

Louis nodded. “Of course! Like the Lost Boys?”

Harry shook his head. “I like Wendy better.”

Louis smiled at him. “Okay. You can be my Wendy.” He held his hand out, and Harry took it, humming happily.

Louis looked at him. “Why were you crying before?”

Harry frowned as his sadness found him again and his eyes prickled with tears. “I was trying to buy a Christmas present for Gemma because she likes Snow White, and I lost my mum,” he said as tears started streaming down his face again.

“Oh, don’t cry, love,” Louis said, holding his hands to Harry’s cheeks and wiping the tears with his thumbs. “We’ll find your mum, okay?”

Harry nodded, but the tears didn’t stop. Louis leaned his forehead against Harry’s.

“Is Gemma your sister?” he whispered.

Harry nodded.

“I have a sister, too,” Louis spoke in a whisper again. “Her name’s Lottie and I came here with her so she could buy her friend a present for her birthday. She likes Ariel best.”

Harry smiled. “I like Ariel. She has pretty hair.”

Louis smiled and poked Harry’s dimple. “See, now you’ve stopped crying!” he exclaimed delightedly. “When my sisters are upset, I always talk to them until they stop crying,” he smiled at Harry. “Do you want to go find your mum? we can bring Belle, if you want.”

Harry smiled. “Where’s your mum?”

Louis smiled back at him, gently pulling a curl again. “I’m eight years old. I can walk around stores by myself.”

Harry smiled and grabbed his hand. “I can’t wait until I turn eight.”

Louis laughed. “I’ll buy a Belle doll for you.”

Harry smiled wide. “And I’ll invite you to all my birthday parties.”

Louis smiled softly back at him. “Let’s go find your mum, Wendy.”

Harry didn’t know if he’d ever smiled so hard in his life as he followed the prettiest boy he’d ever seen around the toy store.

As they passed the superhero section, Louis turned around to look at Harry. “Do you like superheroes?”

Harry nodded and smiled. “Who’s your favorite one?”

Louis smiled. “I love Spiderman. He’s the best superhero! Spiderman has a cool suit and he can shoot webs out of his hands!..”

Louis was still talking, but Harry had stopped listening. He was listening to the sound of Louis’ voice, but not the actual words. Harry liked Louis’ voice. It was soft and high, beautiful and bright.

Harry was also watching Louis as he talked. He watched his lips form the words. He watched the bright blue eyes sparkle and he talked, and he saw Louis’ golden skin and his caramel hair. Louis was a god of aesthetic. Harry liked Louis, he thought as he watched the soft, sweet, boy in front of him talk about his favorite superhero.

  * \- - - - - - -




Harry next saw Louis at school when he was seven.

It was halfway through the kindergarten school year, and Harry had almost forgotten about the sweet, beautiful boy he had met in the toy store a week and a half ago, but the boy still visited his dreams, and Harry always remembered the ones featuring him.

Winter vacation had just ended, and Harry was excited to see all his school friends again. He, like all kindergarteners, was friends with everyone in his class just by the virtue of having the same teacher and being the same age, but Harry had a friend that he had made all by himself on the first day of school.

His name was Niall, and his hair was brown and blonde, and Harry had found it interesting that anyone his age could have more than one hair color. He’d walked up the boy and asked if he wanted to play with him, and the boy had agreed excitedly, bouncing up grinning, which made Harry grin back, popping his dimples. They boy said his name was Niall and he was from someplace called Ireland. Harry liked Niall’s accent, and Niall liked Harry’s dimples. They’d been close ever since, and were now best friends going on five months. Harry liked Niall. He was bright and laughed all the time and he always smiled.

When Harry walked onto the playground with Niall on the cold but bright January morning school was back in session, he was holding a flower he had picked on the way there, the only spot of blue in the frosty snow.

The two boys ran for the swings, chattering and laughing. Harry kept a tight hold on the flower as he gripped the chains and pumped his legs.

Harry turned his head towards Niall, curls whipping by his ears. “Niall, guess what?” he said.

“What?” asked his friend.

“I have a swing set just like this at my house! It’s in the backyard!”

Niall’s blue eyes grew wide and excited. “Really? Does yours have this many swings, too?”

Harry frowned and counted the swings on the school’s set with his pointer finger. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… eight.” He shook his head. “No, mine only has two.” He held up two of his short fingers. Harry liked swings. They made him laugh and feel like he was flying.

Niall was still smiling, though. “That’s so many! That’s almost your whole hand!”

Harry grinned back at him. “There’s a swing for me, and one for my sister. Gemma even put the Snow White doll I got her for Christmas on hers, and I put my Belle doll on mine!”

Niall grinned. “You got a Belle doll?”

Harry nodded. “I went to the toy shop with my mum before Christmas to get her. I even made a friend when I went!”

Niall gasped happily. “Does your new friend go to our school? Can I meet them? Do you think they’ll want to be my friend, too?”

Harry frowned a little. “I don’t know what school he goes to. But he said his name was Louis and he’s eight years old.”

Niall’s eyes grew wide. “You have a friend who’s bigger than us?”

Harry smiled. “Yep,” he popped the ‘p.’

Niall grinned. “That’s so cool! We should go find him!” Niall dragged his feet from the swing, slowing to a stop.

Harry copied him until both boys were sitting still on the ground.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s go find him! He has blue eyes and brown hair.” What Harry didn’t tell Niall was that Louis was the prettiest person he’d ever seen.

Harry and Niall popped up to their feet to search for Harry’s friend.

The two kindergarteners looked at what seemed like every older kid on the playground, but they didn’t see Louis anywhere.

When the school bell rang, they disappointedly headed to their classroom with the rest of their class, and Niall said to Harry, “It’s okay, mate. He probably doesn’t even go here anyways.”

Harry frowned.

****  
  


After school, Niall and Harry were standing in the pick-up area at the front of the building, waiting for their mums to come drive them home.

Suddenly, there was a voice like bells calling Harry’s name.

“Harry!”

Harry looked up. He looked around the students near him, not locating the source of the yell. He looked at Niall. “Did you hear that?”

Niall nodded. “Someone called your name.”

“Harry!” the person called again, and then Louis was running right up to him.

Harry grinned widely, dimples popping out. “Louis!”

Niall smiled. “Hi,” he said happily, the way he seemed to do everything, “I’m Niall! I’m Harry’s best friend.”

Louis nodded. “Hello, Niall. I’m friends with Harry, too.”

Niall nodded. “Is that why you called his name?”

Louis smiled. “I wanted to come and say hi. I just moved here, this is my first day at this school.”

Harry smiled sweetly up at him. “Did you make any friends?” It was what his mum always asked when he went to anywhere new.

Louis smiled back. “I met a boy named Zayn and his friend Liam. They seemed nice, and I went on the slide with them.”

“I know them!” Niall said. “Liam is seven and he lives down the street from me! And Zayn is always going over to his house, and one time they played football with me in my front yard!”

“You like football?” Louis asked.

Niall nodded. “I love football! I played in the kid’s league last year and me mum’s gonna sign me up again when it’s warm!”

“I like footie, too! I got my own ball for Christmas!” Louis said proudly. “What about you, Harry? I know you like Belle and books and Peter Pan, but do you like football?”

Harry smiled and blushed, glad that Louis had remembered. “I’m not very good at it,” he said. “When I try to kick the ball with Niall, I always fall down on my bum!”

Louis laughed, eyes crinkling, and Niall cackled.

“You should come play it with me in the park soon,” said Louis. “It’ll be fun.”

Harry grinned, dimples making themselves prominent in his round cheeks.

A car pulled up in front of the three boys. Louis looked up. “Oh, that’s my mum! Bye, Harry! Bye, Niall!”

Harry and Niall waved as Louis got into the car, climbing in with his blue backpack still on his shoulders. Harry liked Louis backpack, he thought as he waved goodbye to Louis through the window. Harry liked the color blue. It was a nice color, the color of the sky when he swings, and the color of Louis’ eyes. Or maybe he just liked Louis.

“I want to be Louis’ friend,” Niall said quietly after Louis’ car had disappeared.

“I think we already are his friends,” Harry responded. “I hope so, anyways.”

  * \- - - - - - -




Harry invited Louis to Harry’s own house for his birthday party when he was turning eight.

He had been right before; they were friends. Harry and Niall had started hanging out with Louis and his friends, Zayn and Liam, before and after school since that first day. The five boys got along really well and had fun. Harry was friends with all his class, yeah, but these friends seemed like better friends. He thought that maybe their small circle of people could even be a ‘friend group.’ Gemma had one and she said she loved them all. Maybe his was the same as those. Harry liked having a group of friends. It was nice to see them all wave when he walked in the gate, and he liked seeing them all every day.

But he still had a favorite of his new friends.

The expected choice was Niall: they were in the same class, they were the same age, and Harry had known him longest of all. But Harry’s real favorite was Louis, who, despite being two years older than Harry, was the sweetest and closest to him. Louis was funny and pretty and smart and confident, and Harry was probably fonder than he should have been.

The group had been friends for just over a year, and Harry had just recently gone to Louis’ tenth birthday party. (“Ten is a big deal, Hazza. It has two digits, and it means I’m almost an adult! I have to make sure this year is good, H, because I don’t want to grow up and be a boring adult like Mum is! Sorry, Mum.”)

Now it was February first, and Harry was turning eight.

He had insisted on having his party at his house on the day of his actual birthday, because “if it’s not on my birthday, then it can’t really even be a birthday party, Mum!” Harry was practically buzzing, shaking excitedly and waiting for his friends to show up at four o’clock.

He kept jumping up from the couch and running to the kitchen clock, shouting, “Mum! Gemma! It’s almost time!” before sprinting back to the couch and sitting still for a moment before jumping up again to repeat the process. Harry liked birthdays. They were fun and bright and he got to see all his friends and blow out candles, then eat the cake they came from.

The doorbell rang at 3:54, and Harry ran up to open it, yelling behind him, “Someone’s here! I’ll get it!”

He pulled open the big door with all the weight of his small body, revealing Louis, holding a messily wrapped box with his mum standing behind him.

“Louis!” he yelled excitedly, throwing himself at Louis for a hug.

Harry’s mum, Anne, laughed and waved Louis and his mum in.

“Hi, Jay,” she greeted once they were all stood in the hallway, Harry and Louis still standing close and grinning.

Louis’ mother, a short woman named Johanna, smiled back. “Hello, Anne. Aren’t they adorable?” She gestured to their two sons, now admiring the wrapped gift that Harry now held in his hands.

“I wrapped it meself,” Louis was saying proudly.

“I love it,” Harry said genuinely, smiling sweetly at the older boy and tucking the present in close to him.

Anne smiled fondly at them. “They’re so cute together. I don’t know if you see them when you pick them up from school, but when I get there, they’re always standing in their group and Louis has his arm around Harry’s shoulders.”

Jay laughs quietly. “They may get married one day,” she said.

Anne smiled back at her friend. “I hope so,” she replied, “they go so well together.”

The mums walked into the kitchen, chatting about their sons and the birthday party.

Harry looked up at Louis with wide green eyes, still clutching the badly wrapped present to his heart. He stood on his tiptoes and whispered into Louis’ ear. “What is it?”

Louis looked down at him and poked his dimple. “Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t get to open presents until forever.”

Louis smiled, eyes crinkling, and pulled lightly at one of Harry’s chocolate colored curls. “Well, you might already know what it is, seeing as I already promised what I’d get you when we were little.”

Harry tilted his head, thinking. Suddenly, his face brightened. “Is it a Belle doll? Like when I met you in the toy store and you said you’d buy me one for my eighth birthday?”

Louis giggled delightedly. “Yes, but this is a special Belle doll,” he said.

Harry gasped a little. “What’s special about her? Is it because you got her?”

Louis shook his head, still smiling enough to make his eyes squint. “Nope,” he popped the ‘p.’ “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see when you open it!”

Harry smiled back at him. “I know it’ll be special, Lou, because you got it specially for me, just like you said you would.”

He stood on his tiptoes again and brushed a quick kiss to Louis’ cheek.

Louis’ cheeks flushed a nice pink, and the boys stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other. Harry liked the blush of Louis’ cheeks. It was a nice pink color and his eyes shone when it happened.

Then the doorbell rang, and harry jumped to it, followed quickly by Louis as he pulled it open, still holding his present in one hand.

“Liam!” he exclaimed when he saw the boy and his mother and sister at the doorstep.

“Happy birthday, Harry! Hi, Louis!” Liam said, smiling at his friends as Harry and Louis pulled him in the house. His mother came in and started talking to the other mums, and his sister disappeared with Gemma.

Harry and Liam and Louis ran out to the backyard to take turns swinging on the swing, waiting for the other two boys to arrive so the party could start.

****  
  


Later, when Harry was opening gifts, he got to Louis’ last.

It was a Belle doll, all dressed up in a beautiful white wedding dress.

  * \- - - - - - -




Harry went to Louis’ house for the first time when he was eight years old.

He rang the doorbell himself, standing on the doorstep with his mum and bouncing as he waited for the door to open.

The wooden door was thrown wide, revealing a little girl with eyes the same blue as Louis’. Harry smiled at her.

“Hi,” he said with a little wave, “I’m Harry.”

She smiled up at him. “Hi, I’m Felicite.”

The sound of running footsteps thundered through the house as Fizzy pulled Harry into the living room.

“We’re watching the Little Mermaid,” she said to him over the sound. “And Lottie got forks for us to brush our hair with.”

She sat Harry down on the couch and plopped next to him, a fork in her hand.

“I like your hair, your curls are lovely,” said a girl on another seat. She waved. “I’m Lottie. I’m Louis’ little sister and Fizzy’s older sister.”

Harry smiled and waved as he felt the other girl, Fizzy, gently combing his curls with a fork, just like Ariel.

“Hi,” he said as Louis burst into the room.

“Hazza!” Louis yelled.

Harry grinned at him from the couch, where Fizzy was kneeling next to him, still running the fork through his hair as he sat and smiled softly at Louis.

Louis looked at his sister and frowned. “What are you doing, Fizz?”

She turned to him and frowned. “I’m brushing Harry’s hair like Ariel brushed hers in the movie, can’t you see?”

Louis turned to the television and saw the Disney Princess film playing. He went and sat down next to Harry. “Why are we watching this?”

Lottie rolled her eyes at her brother, and Fizzy ignored him altogether. She was just touching his hair, now.

“I like your hair, Harry,” she whispered loudly to him. “It’s very soft.”

Louis smiled and pulled Harry to his chest, running his own fingers through his hair and effectively shutting his little sister out.

“It is very nice, Hazza,” he agreed as he kept carding his hand through the curls.

He practically purred. Harry liked having his hair petted, and he liked it especially when Louis did it. It felt nice and he liked being curled up in the other boy’s lap like this.

They all watched the movie in silence, not noticing the mothers standing in the kitchen, watching Harry and Louis cuddle and smiling fondly at the pair.

“They’re adorable,” Anne whispered to Jay.

“The most,” Jay agreed.

****  
  


Later, when the movie was over, Louis and Harry would go upstairs to Louis’ bedroom and play with his trains and superheroes and giggle together sweetly.

“Spiderman is your favorite, isn’t he, Lou?”

“I do love Spiderman,” Louis agreed. “But I’m also quite partial to Peter Pan.”

Harry smiled. “Peter can fly, and Spiderman can’t.”

Louis laughed. “Did you know that Spiderman’s real name is Peter, too?”

Harry gasped, green doe eyes widening. “Really?” he asked. “Do you think they’re the same person at different ages?” he continued when the other boy nodded.

Louis shrugged. “I dunno, Haz. Peter Pan didn’t want to grow up.”

“Maybe he changed his mind,” Harry said. “Maybe he decided he wanted to go back to this world, like Wendy, so he could fall in love. Maybe Peter decided that growing up wasn’t so bad, as long as he had someone to do it with.”

Louis smiled. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t. I never want to grow up and get old.”

Harry nodded, but he didn’t really agree. Being an adult couldn’t be as good as being a kid, he knew, but he didn’t want to miss everything that came with it. Harry liked his romantic idea. It was inspiring and sweet, and cheesy in all the right ways.

Harry wouldn’t mind being a grown-up if he got to have Louis by his side, he thought.

  * \- - - - - - -




Harry came out to Louis as asexual in his swing when he was fourteen.

They were sitting on his swings, like they did so often ever since they became friends seven and a half years ago. It was his and Louis’ special spot. Harry liked their sessions on the swing. It was always beautiful, and he and his best friend had done so much growing in this spot. Or maybe he just liked this spot because it made him think of Louis.

They’d talked about nearly everything here, from superheroes to where people go after they die to what they wanted for Christmas that year. Now, it was a warm summer night, and they were aimlessly shifting around on the chains, each caught up in his own mind.

Harry’s mind, he knew, was full and churning, nervous at the news he had to tell his best friend. He wondered what it would be like after, what Louis would say. What would Harry even say? How does he even go about this sort of thing? Harry watched his friend. Louis was looking up at the bright stars and moon, obviously as deep in thought as Harry was. It wasn’t a bad sight at all; the column of his stretched neck looked pale in the moonlight. His eyes glittered with the light of the stars above as well as the galaxies within. The line of his jaw cast a sharp shadow against the marble cast of him, and his hair fell, soft looking, behind his head.

Harry could appreciate the aesthetic of it all, he thought. It led him back to his original line, back in a circle to the worry of what he was about to do. It shouldn’t be scary, he reasoned, he knows Louis, he knows that Louis won’t leave him or try to tell him that he’s wrong, that it’s all made up, that he’s just broken. Still, the worry nagged at him. Harry had to tell him now, before he lost his nerve.

Harry opened his mouth to speak.

Louis suddenly looked at him. “What do you do if you’ve got to do something but you’ve got no plan for it at all?”

Harry shut his mouth.

Louis kept watching him intently.

“It’d be okay, I reckon,” Harry said slowly. “I’d be fine, anyways. I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. And my other one. It’s me. I’m asexual.”

He froze, realizing what he’d just said.

So much for all of his careful thought. Of course he’d accidentally come out like this. Of course it would be with a bad pun and an awful joke. Harry blinked, blushing, as Louis stared at him for a second, caught off guard, it seemed.

“Really?” Louis asked.

Harry nodded back at him, mute.

A smile spread across Louis’ face. “That’s good, then. Means I don’t have to be worried about what I was gonna tell you.”

Harry frowned. “Why would you be worried about telling me anything?”

Louis laughed and reached forward to grab Harry’s hands. “You were, too, love.”

Harry blushed and ducked his head, letting his curls fall in front of his face as he smiled at the grass and his scuffed shoes.

Louis brushed his hair over his head and tilted his chin up gently. “Ah, love,” he started, looking into Harry’s eyes. They were both quiet for a moment, just staring, green locked on blue.

“Me, too,” Louis said quietly.

Harry’s brow furrowed, eyes becoming confused. “What?”

Louis smiled. “I am, too. Just like you. That’s what I was worried about telling you.”

Harry’s eyes widened in understanding and wonder. “Really? You are?”

Louis nodded. Harry brushed Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. They smiled at each other.

Time was suspended for a minute. The two boys just stared at each other, points of contact between them unmoving and warm. Harry liked this feeling. It was as if there was no universe outside of the two of them, as if the summertime and the butterflies and everything around all were held suspended infinitely, as if everything was buzzing happily, but was still at the same time.

Harry smiled softly. He wouldn’t mind staying like that forever, maybe. His heart fluttered when Louis breathed, the air expelling into his face. He shivered a little, but now wasn’t the time to explore why.

“Wait,” Louis pulled away and Harry tried not to feel the sudden rush of coldness. “What about your romantic orientation?”

Harry’s head listed to the right in thought. “I… haven’t paid much thought to it, I guess. There are so many, is the thing.”

Louis smiled. “That’s okay, Harry. It’s okay to not really be sure. I’m two years older than you and I’ve just realized what I am. I just thought I was broken and gay.”

Harry gasped and jerked forward. “No! No, no, Lou. Not broken. Never broken. There is nothing wrong with feeling no sexual attraction, Lou. Absolutely nothing,” he whispered sincerely.

Tears were shining like swirling galaxies in Louis’ eyes. Harry watched the small reflected lights swim on the navy backdrop, solar systems of color spinning around tiny suns in the tears turned nearly black from the night’s dark. Harry was sure his own eyes were showing just as much, but how could anything compare to the sight of Louis’ eyes, so filled with emotions, like windows that revealed his soul down to the very core of him. It wasn’t a sight just anyone got to see, it was just for him, for Harry’s eyes only. They were maybe the most beautiful part of a person, he thought, as cheesy as it was.

Louis laughed softly, his smile small but happy. “Well, I should tell you, I’m a homoromantic asexual. Not broken.”

Harry smiled and swiped a thumb over his jaw. “Not broken,” he agreed. “Not now, not ever. Don’t say broken, we’re not broken, just different, yeah?”

Louis nodded. “Different, yeah. I know, I’ve not been insecure about it for a decent amount of time by now, but it’s always nice to hear.”

Harry smiles. “Of course. I know we aren’t, at all, but it has to be said.”

Louis grinned at him, sharp canines pointing into his lower lip with the force of his smile. “I’m glad to know that now I can always come to you when I need to talk about anything.”

Harry smiled back at him, dimples digging into his cheeks. “Oh, Lou, even if I wasn’t, you could, you know you could.”

Louis smiled back. “Yes, but now I know for sure to come to you if a boy -- no matter how cute he is -- tries to kiss me.”

Harry laughed. “So, you don’t like kissing, then? That’s where you fall on the scale?”

Louis nodded. “I suppose. I mean, I guess I'd kiss a boy, but I wouldn't want to, like, stick my tongue in his mouth or anything. Honestly, I just think tongues should stay in their oral cavities, for the most part.”

“Really?” asked Harry, but it wasn't really a question to be answered. “I guess that makes sense. I'd never really thought about kissing before. I think I would do it, but it's not very important at all.”

Louis nodded, like he was filing all this information away in his mind somewhere. Like he had a ‘Harry Box’ in his mind the way Harry had a ‘Louis Box,’ full of useless but precious tidbits of information about his favorite boy.

“I think I would have sex, though, eventually,” Louis said it casually, as if it was a premeditated sort of thing he’d thought about before.

Harry nodded. “I dunno if I'd necessarily start it, but I could follow through. I mean, I've got the hardware and everything. It probably wouldn't be bad. I wouldn't really know, I've never done it. Seems like it should maybe be something special for my partner, like some sort of desserts wouldn't normally want to make for them.”

Louis frowned. “You never have to have sex if you don't want to, Haz. If that's not something you're down with, that's not something you'd have to do at all.”

Harry smiled quietly up at him. “I think I'll do it eventually. It just doesn't seem important to me.”

Louis smiled at him in return. “Sex has just never really been a thing for me, exactly. I guess I just don't really prioritize anything about it. I mean, if my boy was really pretty, I may do it with him just to see how he'd look. It may not make my dick hard, but I can for sure appreciate beauty when it's there.”

Harry laughed, loud and squawking, and slapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed. Louis grinned gleefully as Harry muttered out, “I don't know where that came from,” and Louis gleefully laughed back, quickly responding that he wouldn't believe that even if it was the first time he's heard the sound out of him.

After that, the conversation is lighter, but no less meaningful. Harry likes that it can be like this with Louis. It's deep and life-altering one moment, and the next, it's about something mundane or light and all of it is just so important to him.

Or maybe Harry just likes Louis.

  * \- - - - - - -




Harry realized he was in love with Louis in his swing when he was fourteen.

It really was a big place for the two of them, the setting for so many major events for Harry, it seemed. First, when Harry lost his first tooth here when he was seven and Louis was the one to shine it and hand it back to him, telling him that “it would be worth more to the Tooth Fairy now that it's already clean.” And when Louis first kisses him on the cheek, after Harry told him what had happened with his dad at age eight. When Harry had first told Louis how important he was, and when Louis had told him right back. When Harry had come out, and when Louis had as well, where they shared their first support for each other as who they were. With all those, and a thousand more tiny fragments of time that should have been meaningless but meant so much, maybe too much, to Harry, it was no wonder why this would be the place that Harry would realize he loved the boy.

It was a big love, for lack of a better word, a love that ran so deep inside of him, a love that he felt in his very soul, a love that had maybe even begun when he first laid eyes on the beautiful boy in the toy store who asked him why he was crying, and it was amazing that Harry hadn't noticed sooner.

It was a miracle how Harry hadn't realized the way his blood sizzled with energy when he saw Louis, the way his skin danced with butterflies when it was pressed against Louis’, as it was right now as they attempted to sit in the same child-size swing, the way his heart sung when he saw the other boy, and twirled when he heard his voice. It was a miracle how he didn't see this huge, sparking, all-encompassing love he now couldn't stop feeling if he tried.

So, yes, the swing was a pillar in their history. He liked the swing. But Harry liked what it represented more. It was Louis to him, it was hours spent talking and memorizing everything he could, it was conversations with depth and emotional toll, and it was happiness. It was Louis, in a way.

And Harry loved the swing, and he loved Louis.

It wasn't anything particularly special that made him finally realize this (as if anything including Louis could be not special, really). It wasn't an unusual night. In fact, it was pretty standard for the two of them: they were just sitting on the swing one afternoon near the end of summer, when the air was starting to become crisp and the plants were a shade darker, laughing and talking out of their asses; just hanging out and it was nothing, really, but it was also everything.

Harry was swinging a little in the wind, ever so slightly pushing with his legs to spin around just a little, and he turned his head to look at Louis.

Louis was mid-laugh, he was smiling with crinkled eyes and long eyelashes and killer cheekbones and soft hair and brightness radiating from him, because that’s who Louis was. Louis is a bright spot. A sun brought down from the blue sky to grace the earth and shower it with his sweetness and wit and everlasting beauty. Louis was a star, like the sun was a star. He’s bright and pure from afar, and the closer you get, the more beautiful it is: a burning ball of energy and light filled with swirling colors whose imperfections made him that much more beautiful. Louis was brightness in the best way Harry knew brightness. He’s light and happiness and long summer days and warmth; he’s the glow of the oven in the bakery where Harry works when Harry pulls out a fresh pastry --  all soft swirls and sharp lines of sugar and flour and a pure sort of love.

And that was the word, wasn’t it, for what happened to Harry wherever Louis was concerned? Love?

Is love toy stores and joy and a feeling so deep it shakes his very core? Is love swingsets and sparkling and the bright sort of fizz that fills his mind when he thinks of a forever with Louis? Is love burning, a slow, warm, indescribable sort of burning felt in the veins, or the sharp burn of jealousy that strikes his heart when he thinks of what others have that he can’t?

Because he can’t, not really, he can’t have Louis, as much as he wants him.

He may love him, he may want to keep Louis in a way that’s not platonic at all, but what he already has is just too precious to lose. He already has Louis, or at least some part of him, whatever small part of his heart he can possess, and Harry has to be fine with that. He has Louis in some small way, and it may not be the all-encompassing light that Harry has for Louis, but it’s what he can have. He has the title of best friend, and it can’t get much better than that. Louis could ask for any and every bit of Harry, if he wanted, and Harry would give it away before he could even finish asking. He already does have that, really. Harry and Louis are best friends, and he’s not going to let anything take that from him -- even his own pesky feelings. How could they matter, anyway, when Louis is right there, sitting right next to him on a swing in Harry’s own backyard?

Louis’ looking at him now, the sunlight striking him in the best way (but when is it not, honestly), and Harry can only imagine what he’s seeing. Harry can’t know what he looks like in this moment, as he can only imagine what Louis is thinking, but who has the time for trivialities like that when the entire universe is looking at him?

Louis observed his wide eyes and his contemplative face, and tilted his own head.

“Harry,” he started -- making Harry jump a little and shake his head to clear it, because what’s more important than hearing your entire world -- “what on Earth are you thinking so deeply about?”

Harry shrugged, a delicate pink rising in his cheeks. “Just… everything.”

Louis smiled at him, then looked around the yard, at the fading summertime, at the butterflies, and it seemed to Harry that they all belonged to his creation. It would make sense for beauty to beget beauty, and these were some of the greatest beauties of all.

“Everything, huh?” Louis said lightly. “A bit deep for three in the afternoon, innit?”

Harry shrugged, looking down. “What could be a better time to contemplate the universe and all its mysteries?”

Louis laughed at that, like glass windchimes, as he laughs at so many things Harry says. Harry doesn’t know what he wouldn’t give to make Louis laugh that tinkly, sweet laugh of his for the rest of forever.

Harry liked Louis. Louis was brightness and joy and a deep sort of contentment, and Harry was so in love with him.

  * \- - - - - - -




Harry told Louis he loved him for the first time when he was sixteen.

They were on the swing again, of course. Harry had told their other friends about his hopeless love, and they didn’t seem to be of the same mind he was about it’s unrequitedness. Actually, they seemed to think that it wasn’t unrequited in any way, that Louis was actually in love with him as well, and that’s about as requited as it can get. But Louis returning Harry’s deepest love? As much as Harry wished for it, it couldn’t be true. Louis had never hinted at anything non-platonic with Harry (“Neither have you!” he heard a voice of reason that sounded suspiciously like Niall say). But if it was true… Harry could have everything. Louis was his everything, and he could maybe have Louis. If what the boys were saying was true, Harry could finally get to be with Louis, get to kiss his beautiful lips and tell him he loves him. They could do all the domestic shit they wanted, and they could adopt beautiful babies and live together and do all their own renovations and everything together and Harry could cook him dinner every night and they’d cuddle together in their shared bed at night and have a joint bank account and Harry couldn’t think of a better ending than that. But this was all, of course, assuming that his friends were right and Louis did love him as much as he loved Louis.

Which was a bigger “if” than Harry preferred.

But all the same, Harry loved Louis and did so exponentially, his love growing all the time with every weirdly endearing thing the other boy did, and it was about time Louis found out. Harry had to tell him.

He’d thought about this for weeks, thought about how he’d tell him, tried to figure out the perfect way to break the news. What to even do when you’re telling the only boy you’ve ever loved how you feel about him? He could bake him cupcakes, or he could write him a song, or he could just burst out with it at the lunch table. Does he build up to it with a long speech? Does he just yell it for the whole world to hear? Does he tell him, then try to explain himself? The truth of the matter was that there was no perfect way to do this.

But now, as the two boys lay on the grass near his old swingset, watching the stars in the purple sky, feeling Louis’ gaze on his profile as Harry stared up at the infinite sky, Harry thought that there wasn’t really going to a be a better time than this.

“Louis, do you know what you are to me?” he started. Harry knew Louis was going to try to answer, but he cut him off and kept going. “Do you know how important you are? Do you even know that you’re my favorite?”

He thought he heard an intake of breath from his side, and Harry blindly reached out to grab Louis’ hand.

“Do you know that being around you makes my heart skip a beat? It’s probably taken twenty years off my life, at this point,” he continued conversationally, despite his thumping heart. The beats were so loud and fast that he was sure Louis could hear it and feel the vibrations through the ground. “If I didn’t have you, I’d never even see the sun. You taught me how to be someone, Lou. You make me strong.”

Harry looked up at the sky, hesitating before he said the most important words he’d probably ever say in his entire existence. “And.. I love you.”

He knows he heard the intake of breath from his right at those words.

“I love you for all those things, and more. I love you for who you are, I love you for who you make me, and I love you for who you make me want to be. You’re an absolute angel, Louis, and I am so utterly in love with you.”

Harry turned as he said the last words, eyes wide and genuine as he confessed it all. All his feelings, all his love, and laid his heart bare for Louis’ eyes only. What did it matter, really, when Louis was his heart?

Louis stared back at him, eyes bigger and bluer than Harry had ever seen them. Something was shining in them, but Harry had a big, romantic speech to finish.

“I don’t know if you feel the same, or if you even want to be around me ever again after this, but I had to tell you, Louis. I just… I love you too much to keep it in any longer than I already have.”

Louis leaned in, a strange sort of smile on his face and whispered, “Is this real?”

Harry laughed. “The realest thing I’ve ever felt,” he responded.

Louis smiled, wider than the moon above and brighter than all the stars together. “Good.”

Harry grinned. “Really?”

Louis leaned in even closer than he already was, now just centimeters above Harry’s lips, and whispered into them, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. I’ve loved you since that day i met you in the toy store, maybe, when you were looking for a Snow White doll for your sister, and I’ve loved you more every day since. I can’t believe I’m not the one who said it first, because I’ve thought it every day for three years. You are my deepest love, Harry, and you may be it for me, and I would absolutely love to kiss you right now. Can I do that?”

Harry felt breathless, and nodded before leaning in to seal their lips together himself.

  * \- - - - - - -




Harry kissed Louis for the first time when he was sixteen, right after he told Louis he loved him.

And Louis, the boy who he loved and who loved him as well, kissed him back.

  * \- - - - - - -




Harry proposed to Louis in their swing in their shared backyard at their own house when he was twenty-one.

They knew they wanted to get married, and they knew they wanted kids together, but it still surprised Louis in the best way when Harry sunk to one knee under the starlight.

Afterwards, when they were lying on the grass, Louis on top of Harry’s chest, joyful tears wiped off of faces by loving hands, Louis would whisper into his love’s chest, “I can’t wait to grow old with you.”

Harry would squeeze his fiance’s hands tighter, feeling the new ring and kissing Louis’ finger. “I thought you never wanted to grow up, or be old,” he’d reply in a whisper.

“I wouldn’t mind it so much if I get to do it with you,” Louis would murmur back.

And Harry would really have no other option but to pull his greatest love up and kiss him, after such a sweet thought.

  * \- - - - - - -




And Harry married the love of his life when he was twenty-three.

****  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this !!!! support and protect ur local asexuals !!!
> 
>  
> 
> im on tumblr @vanillabeanniall if u want to discuss ace rights or insult my fic or anything


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